


『 morning 』Please shovel the driveway.

by ikmkr



Series: kamukoma winter week 2019 [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: #kamukomawinterweek2019, Humor, Lots and lots of snow, M/M, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), kamukomawinterweek2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikmkr/pseuds/ikmkr
Summary: The annual blizzard season hits full force.prompt one: snow day
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Series: kamukoma winter week 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574095
Kudos: 32





	『 morning 』Please shovel the driveway.

**Author's Note:**

> for kamukoma winter week
> 
> i hate winter

_T’was a night in December,_

_And all through the house,_

_Not a creature was stirring,_

_Not even a mouse._

_In the soft, warm bed_

_A young couple was sleeping,_

_And outside their window—_

* * *

It sure as hell wasn’t a stork.

A blizzard was taking place, full force, just in time for the holiday season. Unbeknownst to the two men, fast asleep in their shared bed, the sky was emptying snow onto the ground with an unholy fury, the likes of which that scared even the toughest of military commanders, heralding the icy death of his troops. As the hours passed, the two snoring gently, the ground slowly transitioned from the green of grass to the white of snow, fingers of frost crawling up their window.

Eventually the lazy sunrise settled into their bedroom, the light shining off the snow. Kamukura Izuru sat up rigidly, awake like clockwork, rubbing at his eyes and fruitlessly brushing his long hair out of his face. He yawned very quietly into the back of his hand, stretched his back and slid out of the sheets, making a beeline for the bathroom, where his hairbrush lay waiting. The bathroom door clicked shut. It was quiet again.

After a few minutes he returned to the bed, his hair rearranged and detangled, and quietly nudged his lover awake. “Nagito,” he whispered, gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “it’s morning.”

From under the covers, a head of white, fluffy hair grumbled softly in protest.

”Nagito,” Izuru repeated, his long dark hair tickling Nagito’s face. “I am going to make breakfast. You will miss it.”

In response, Nagito sat up, nearly clocking Izuru in the nose with his forehead. “What are you making?” he asked, sounding a lot more awake than thirty seconds previously.

”Pancakes and fruit salad.”

”Ohhh. That sounds delicious. Give me a few minutes.”

”Alright then. I will be downstairs.” Izuru left the room with a small smile, and headed downstairs. Nagito listened to his footsteps as he descended, and when they got too quiet to hear, he sighed happily and went to the bathroom to wash his face.

The radio was on when Nagito came downstairs. It had a Christmas channel playing, some 1950s vaudeville rendition of Deck the Halls churning jauntily out of the speaker. Izuru was in the kitchenette, a frying pan heating up on the stove while he cut up watermelon. His cell phone lay unlocked on the counter, a text conversation open. The blinds were still closed, and the room seemed a bit dim. However, Izuru seemed to not be concerned about either, and as he worked, his body subtly swayed with the music, and Nagito swore he could hear him singing softly along.

Izuru turned his head when he heard Nagito’s footsteps. “Hajime wants to visit for Christmas, if that is okay with you,” he noted. “I do not have any issue with it, but if you have something planned, please let me know if there is a conflict.”

Nagito blinked. “Oh, no, of course not. It’ll be nice to have Hajime over. We haven’t seen him in a couple months.”

”I suppose there’s a reason for that,” Izuru muttered. His tone was so even that Nagito nearly missed the joke. As he spoke, he poured some pancake batter onto the sizzling pan. “How many do you want, by the way?”

”Three is fine,” Nagito responded.

”Noted,” Izuru said, and poured out two more batter circles. They nearly were touching, and Nagito feared for his pancakes’ well-being. He watched Izuru apprehensively as the man flipped the pan and landed all three pancakes perfectly. He’d give him a heart attack some day, he was sure of it.

Nagito sighed and sat down at the counter. He’d trust him with the pancakes. 

After a few more minutes (and christmas tunes), Izuru brought over a tray laden with fruit, hot chocolate, pancakes and various toppings. Izuru helped himself to a hearty serving of fruit and pancakes, and topped them with nothing aside from chocolate chips; Nagito grabbed his three, some fruit and whipped cream. They both sat down to eat.

Breakfast was amazing, as usual. Nagito feared the day when he would take Izuru’s cooking for granted. Maybe that day had already come. When they were done, Nagito dutifully helped Izuru wash up the dishes, and when they were done washing up, Nagito rewarded Izuru with a small kiss. Izuru smiled very gently at the affection.

Nagito settled himself on the sofa, grabbing his most recent reading material off of the table it was sitting on, neatly bookmarked. As he did this, Izuru switched on a news channel. This was fairly routine; Izuru would catch the 7am news before he left for work each day. His long hair fluttered as he made his way over to Nagito, settling on the couch next to him, taking advantage of his smaller height to into his body heat. Nagito sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

_“Good morning Chesterfield!” _

It might have not looked like Izuru was paying attention to an onlooker, but Nagito could feel Izuru tense up slightly as the local radio played. It was a town channel, so local that signal only picked up if you were in the city’s boundaries. Izuru tended to shy away from national channels. They reminded both him and Nagito of _those days, _when national radio was the only thing they could pick up, the station ringing with emergency alerts on the hour. The radio channel they were currently listening to was small, and maybe lacking in outside news, but it was enough.

Speaking of news...

”_And now for the weather. If you haven’t noticed already by looking out your windows, a major blizzard hit overnight. Some homes and businesses have been snowed in. We advise caution while driving...”_

”Ah, the bakery might have been snowed in,” Izuru grumbled. “And here I was, ready to try a new holiday-themed cookie recipe.”

”Izuru,” Nagito spluttered. “The house. Has the _house _been snowed in?”

”Oh, right, the house.”

Nagito chuckled disbelievingly. Izuru had a one-track mind when it came to his projects, and his bakery was one of his biggest projects yet. To Izuru’s protest, Nagito broke free of Izuru’s cuddles to go pull the blinds. As the sunlight streamed in, both men squinted in discomfort.

Nagito went wide-eyed. The snow was packed halfway up the window, and he could see nothing but an expanse of snow, the road buried beneath the white. They were definitely going to have a tough time getting out of this one, or at least they would, if one of them wasn’t Kamukura Izuru, SHSL Hope.

”Izuru, sweetheart, we’re snowed in,” Nagito noted, his tone sardonic. “Can you _please _dig us a hole through the snow so we may have the ability to get to the supermarket when we inevitably need groceries?”

Izuru raised an eyebrow in interest. He got up off the couch and quickly strode over to the window, eyes aglow with excitement as he looked at the predicament they were in. “That is a lot of snow,” he commented.

”So?” Nagito almost begged. 

Izuru nodded. “So we die like men.”

Nagito nearly smacked him.

* * *

Thankfully, the town had salt trucks, and within a couple hours, the snow barring the front doors of the Komaeda-Kamukura household and their neighbors was successfully melted. The street sanitation workers had learned to stop questioning the snow tunnels that they found while melting snow.

**Author's Note:**

> this is not beta-d


End file.
